


Blood and Water

by ReyloTrashCompactor (NextToSomething), SouthSideStory



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015), Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Age Difference, Christmas fic, Codependence, Cousin Incest, Cousins, F/M, Mistletoe, Modern AU, Rey is adopted, Reylo - Freeform, Underage Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2019-02-12 05:03:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12951885
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NextToSomething/pseuds/ReyloTrashCompactor, https://archiveofourown.org/users/SouthSideStory/pseuds/SouthSideStory
Summary: Rey was twelve years old in a grown-up velvet dress when her cousin Ben placed his hand on her waist in the yearly family picture. The gesture was innocent, but she’s been in love with him ever since. Six years later, when the world is suddenly boiled down to only the two of them, not even the vast emptiness of Alderaan House will give them enough places to hide from what they both want.





	1. Prologue

.

.

Rey stared hard at the picture on the mantle. She couldn’t remember exactly which Christmas this was she was looking at, but she must have been around 12. Gawky and painfully skinny, her red velvet dress hung off her little girl body almost pathetically. It had a grown up neckline, one that Aunt Leia had helped her pick out, wide yet shallow. Showing off clavicles, rather than not-yet-arrived breasts. Too old for her, but Rey had loved the dress. It was the first time she had ever felt womanly.

Ben stood next to her, like he did in every family Christmas photo taken every year, though this was the first year he’d rested his hand at her waist.

It was a completely innocent gesture, but little girl Rey in her grown up dress had warmed all over. It was the single most romantic thing she had ever experienced, and her foolish heart had leapt at the sight of her cousin ever since.

“Hey, kid.”

Rey startled, then turned to face Ben Solo. “Hey,” she said, trying to keep her voice as steady as possible. It was difficult, with him standing so close to her. She was tall, but he had always been taller. At first just long and lanky, and then, both tall and broad. His black turtleneck emphasized this painfully, and she was sure she felt her cheeks stain with pink.

“You want a drink?” he said, his eyes kind, if distant. The drink he held looked specifically adult, in a short glass with a single ice cube that was larger, more purposeful, than ice cubes one might pour water over.

She glanced around him, to where her dad and aunt were talking.

“What’d Dad say?” she asked.

Ben shrugged. “Didn’t ask Luke. I got to drink at Christmas when I was eighteen, so I figured you could, too.”

Rey chewed her lip. “I’m seventeen,” she said, hating every year that separated them.

_And you’re twenty-eight,_ she added silently.

“Eh,” he said, shrugging. “I was drinking at seventeen, too. They just weren’t as happy about it.”

He took a long sip of whatever liquor was that particular maple syrup shade and jerked his head. “Come on. I’ll just splash a little SoCo in your eggnog. Our secret.”

Rey followed him, her eyes darting to where her dad and Aunt Leia stood, the woman’s head thrown back in laughter as she clutched Uncle Han’s arm. Han took a long drag on his own drink, much more depleted than his son’s, his face serious and drawn.

There was an assortment of bottles on the fancy mirrored cart, and Ben seemed to know exactly the one to pluck out. The amount he poured in the glass could have been a little, or a lot, but Rey had no idea. This would be her first drink.

Then he ladled in the egg nog, and the illicit liquid was swallowed up by thick, creamy sweetness. He handed her the drink and Rey took a tentative sip under his amused eye.

She wrinkled her nose. It made the eggnog taste worse, not better, more liquid and bitter, less sweet. But she took another gulp, a larger one, because Ben made it for her.

A corner of his mouth kicked up, a half smile both he and his dad did, and he tapped his glass against hers. “Merry Christmas, Rey.”

She smiled into her glass, taking another sip. Bitter, but warmer, making the very tip of her nose feel fuzzy. “Merry Christmas, Ben.”

.

.

Christmas was Ben’s least favorite holiday. The awful, over-cheerful music started in October and didn’t let up until New Year’s. Half the houses in upstate New York donned gaudy lights and sported plastic reindeer in their front yards. He had to buy presents for people he didn’t like and accept gifts that he had no interest in. And best of all, Christmas meant that his father would carry out his one dependable action of the year: showing up at his mom’s house to drink too much and put his crooked nose where it didn’t belong.

Ben didn’t have much in common with Han, but they shared a taste for whiskey. He took a long, careful sip of his drink and savored the warmth it brought, watching his parents all the while. Mom kissed his father on the cheek, and when he failed to grin, she scowled, swatted his arm, and said, “Stop being such a grump.”

Han snorted, but he was smiling now, some expression caught between amusement and lechery. “Whatever you say, princess.”

His parents had been divorced for fifteen years, but you couldn’t tell it by looking at them. Ostensibly, his father visited every Christmas to share the holiday with Ben, but truly, he was here for Mom. Never mind that he philandered his way around the country eleven months out of the year; come December he always showed up, fucked things up, and left before New Year’s resolutions could be expected.

When his parents started arguing, Ben refilled his glass--his third of the night--and set off with the whiskey decanter in hand to find a quiet place. There should be plenty in this vast tomb of a house.

God, he was too old for this shit.

Ben took a seat at the base of the stairs, far enough away from the drawing room that he didn’t have to hear his mother’s raised voice. He sat, drank, poured himself another tumbler full of whiskey, and drank again. He kept at it until the world felt warm, the silence dampened, his solitude more comfortable. It was hard to give a damn about his family when he had whiskey-loosened limbs and the sleepy edge of drunkenness was dulling his senses.

“Ben?” Rey asked. “Are you all right?”

“Never better,” he said.

She fidgeted with the sleeve of her white sweater dress. The color suited her, made her look as sweet as she was. If there was anything that made Christmas at home bearable, it was Rey, and Ben felt suddenly happy that she’d sought him out.

“You’re the best of this bunch, you know that?” Ben asked.

There wasn’t much of a slur in his voice, despite the fact that his head was swimming. Ben had long ago perfected the art of acting sober through his liquor.

Rey glanced at the decanter, then the glass in his hand. Maybe she wasn’t fooled.

“I don’t know about that,” she said, “but thanks anyway.”

Ben smiled. It was easier to smile for Rey than anyone else in this family. She was a stubborn little thing, but she was kind. Good in a way that the rest of them had to work hard for, and that they never quite achieved anyway.

“It’s probably because you didn’t get our screwed up genes,” he said.

_Fuck._ He hadn’t meant to say that out loud. Rey didn’t need reminders that she was adopted, least of all on Christmas.

She stiffened, a lovely frown pulling at her mouth. It was an oddity he’d noticed, that Rey was even prettier when she frowned than when she smiled.

“I’m sorry,” Ben muttered. “That was an asshole thing to say.”

She looked away, arms crossed over her modest chest. “Whatever. It’s okay.”

Rey pushed her hair away from her face, and it hit him all at once, as if the change had happened overnight rather than over years: she was growing up. Nearly a woman already, really, and a beautiful one at that.

Not that it mattered.

Ben set aside his glass, stood, and grabbed the railing to steady himself. The world tipped around him, still warm and pleasant, but in the way of a carousel ride that was just starting. It wasn’t spinning quite yet, but it would be soon.

“C’mon,” Ben said. “Let’s get some air.”

He took Rey by the wrist and pulled her along behind him.

.

.

It was cold out on the expansive stone veranda. Ben hadn’t wanted to risk going back to the front of the house where he and Rey’s coats hung on the hook, so he’d dug them something out of a hall closet. He wore an impressively formal wool longcoat, and had given her a worn leather bomber.

“Mine in high school,” he commented as he adjusted the collar where it’d rolled under. Rey couldn’t help to shiver when his fingers brushed her neck.

He canted his head at her. “You okay?”

“Mmmhmm,” she mumbled. “Your hands are cold.”

“Damn, sorry,” he said, cupping them to his mouth and blowing. Steam plumed around his face, and Rey stood transfixed. Even such a benign task as warming his hands sent a prickle over her. “Better?” he asked as he touched the tips of his fingers to her cheekbones.

She held back her shiver this time, though her heart was thundering.

“Yeah.”

Ben gave her that half-smile, then turned from her. He walked to the thick stone banister, leaning heavily over it. Rey joined him, though she stood upright, her hands tucked into her underarms as she looked out over the backyard.

Rey almost snorted. The grounds of Alderaan House could never be hemmed in by the word “backyard.” This part of New York was littered with lakes, and Alderaan boasted one of its very own. It lay muted and frozen now, surrounded by snow tinged blue by starlight. The grounds rolled on to the treeline in the distance, clean and soft under its blanket of snow. Low mountains that she wasn’t sure Aunt Leia didn’t also own jutted into the night sky beyond that, painting a pristine, if cold, picture.

“Remember the New Years I broke my wrist?” Ben asked suddenly.

Rey nodded, her eyes on the lake. “I felt terrible. Your mom goaded you into going to sled with me, even though I know you didn’t want to. Then you fell and hurt yourself and I--” Rey shook her head. “Well, you remember.”

“You cried harder than I did,” he said, his voice warm and kind.

“You didn’t cry!” she said, turning to him. “You were almost out of college at that point!”

“Being twenty-one doesn’t mean I couldn’t cry over a fractured wrist.”

Rey huffed, a gust of steam billowing between them. “Well now I feel so much better.”

Ben laughed, an easy sound, almost relieved. “I should just spend these get togethers with you,” he said. “You’re a breath of fresh air in that stuffy house.”

Rey trembled. “Then why’d we have to come outside?”

“You want to go in?”

She shook her head, and Ben smiled again. He turned out to look at the frost hardened snow, and Rey took a moment to look at him. Big nose and big lips, she knew she shouldn’t think he was so pretty. But she did. She liked the way his face tried its hardest to look funny, and didn’t quite succeed. His nose only made him look regal and his lips just made her wonder what all that soft would feel like if pressed against her own. He’d grown out his hair, and it brushed all the way down to his collar. He had gorgeous, wavy hair that Rey wouldn’t have minded to have inherited. Dark and thick and even more perfect long.

He glanced at her, catching Rey staring. “What you looking at, kid?”

Rey flushed, turning quickly away. “Sorry. Just...spaced out for a second.” She could feel him looking at her, and she willed her profile to be as attractive as possible.

After a moment, he stood straight, stretching with a groan. His groan broke on a laugh and Rey glanced tentatively over. His back was bowed and his head thrown back. She followed his gaze.

“What?” she asked, looking up at the swags of live evergreen boughs that decorated the arches between the stone columns.

“You don’t see it?” Ben asked, and Rey shook her head, squinting into the shadowed dark. The lights strung in the boughs had been turned off hours ago.

Ben tugged her to stand where he was and pointed. She looked, but shook her head. “Nope, what am I looking at?”

“Mistletoe,” he said, his voice losing its teasing edge.

Rey felt a sudden flood of heat over her whole body, and her eyes darted to him. He was already looking at her, steady and still, even for the liquor she could smell on him this close.

She looked down, sure if he looked hard enough, he’d see her inappropriate crush written across her face. But he knocked a knuckle under her chin, tilting her face back up.

“You ever been kissed?” he asked, his voice low and more serious than he usually used on her.

She didn’t know what to say. _No,_ was the answer, but if she gave him that, he’d remember all over again how young and inexperienced she was. A _yes_ would be a lie, and she was terrible at those.

Her answer didn’t matter, it seemed, because he ducked the several inches that separated them in height, and touched his lips to hers. Rey stared hard at his cheekbone for a long moment before she thought to close her eyes. Ben shifted, pressing a bit firmer, the kiss more wet than it had been a moment ago.

Then he pulled away, before she could even think to kiss him back.

He considered her face, his gaze hard on her mouth.

“You taste good, kid,” he said, and dipped down again. She readied herself, but he surprised her, running his tongue over her lips, first the bottom, then flicking the top. He pulled away, licking his own lips in concentration.“What is that?”

“Honey,” Rey stammered, her breath caught in her throat, her thoughts a jumbled mess scrambling to remember every second of Ben’s mouth on hers. Trying to remember what _he_ tasted like. Alcohol, a new flavor he’d shown her that night, and mint, one she knew on her own. She swallowed. “Honey lip balm.”

Ben nodded, slow and serious, like this was something he’d want to remember later.

“I like it.”

Then he stepped back, almost stumbled. He shook his head, and she wished his smile would come back.

“We should go back in,” he said.

He didn’t wait for her, didn’t even look at her, just turned and walked through the french doors. Rey followed feebly after, mind reeling and fingers pressed hard into her lips.

Ben had kissed her. Her first kiss. Her cousin.

She thought she’d be happy, but all she felt was cold confusion and a little like crying.

Ben had kissed her, and she didn’t know if she liked it.

.

.

The promised carousel ride had gained momentum, and Ben felt like he might be sick. He shrugged out of his father’s old longcoat and tossed it to the floor. Someone could pick it up later.

Rey followed him back inside, just a step behind, a quiet shadow girl. The lights were blurred, haloed around their sconces, and Ben had to stop and brace himself against the wall for a moment.

He’d kissed Rey. Flirted with his seventeen-year-old cousin and pretended to see mistletoe. Just for the chance to lick honey balm from her lips. It was sweet-- _she_ was sweet--and he wanted--

Ben turned around and leaned against the wall, tilting his head back. What the fuck was wrong with him?

“Ben?”

He looked at Rey. She was still wearing his leather jacket, her cheeks and nose red from the cold. Her lips were red too, but he was responsible for that.

She hadn’t kissed back, he thought. His memory of the moment was fuzzy, lost in too-soft focus like everything else right now.

“Don’t tell anyone,” he said.

Rey nodded, not looking at him. She couldn’t get enough of looking at him before.

“Of course,” she said. “I’m not stupid, Ben.”

He laughed too hard, too loudly, and when he finally stopped, Ben found that his eyes were wet. “I know that.”

Rey seemed to close in on herself. Shoulders hunched, gaze cast down, arms caught close to her sides. She wanted him, he knew as much, had known it on some level for years. A passing crush, he’d thought, the sort of infatuation that growing up would extinguish.

She glanced up at him and let out a shaky breath, thighs pressed tightly together, and Ben couldn’t help but wonder if his kiss had made her wet.

His mother insisted on a family photo, same as she did every year. She and Uncle Luke fought a playful battle over the best way to set up the camera, then rushed back to take their places right before it flashed.

Ben couldn’t make himself smile, and at the last moment, he looked at Rey. She stood straight, but her lips were trembling, like the secret he’d pressed upon her was already trying to spill out.


	2. When The Music's Over

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title taken from The Doors song of the same title.

.

.

Cornell remained exactly as Ben remembered it. He hadn’t been back since his graduation, but it wasn’t the kind of place that changed quickly. The buildings still looked more like small castles than anything else, the students fresh faced and hassled as they milled about the snow covered campus. 

It was strange, standing in the middle of a place that seemed to be frozen in time right when his life was changing so much.

Exams were in full swing, but Ben didn’t know how many Rey had left. He hoped not many, because the news he carried couldn’t wait for long.

Her roommate was a wary brunette named Jyn--a scholarship student by the look of her clothes--and she reluctantly told Ben that Rey was studying for her last exam in the library.

It didn’t take long to find her. She was on the ground floor, curled up in a leather armchair with a fat chemistry textbook splayed open across her lap. Rey glared at whatever she was studying, so pretty that it hurt to witness. Her hair was piled on top of her head in a half fallen down bun, wearing skinny jeans and a red hoodie with _Cornell_ emblazoned across it in white block letters. She’d kicked off her shoes, exposing elegant feet in mismatched wool socks. 

“Rey,” he said, and she jumped, her textbook dropping to the floor. 

Then she scurried out of her chair and threw herself at him, skinny arms squeezing his chest with more strength that anyone so slender ought to have. Christ, she smelled amazing, her messy hair carrying the scents of lemongrass shampoo and not-quite-clean girl. 

Ben hugged her back, more tightly than he should, but he couldn’t stop himself from clinging. She was healthy and safe and here. The only family he had left now. 

Rey let go first, and Ben released her, no matter how little he wanted to. She pulled down her hair, wincing when the rubber band caught in a tangle, then ran her fingers through it.

“What are you doing here?” she asked. “Did Daddy send you?”

Ben swallowed. He needed to tell her, but he couldn’t do it. Not yet. She had one more exam left, and besides, Rey deserved just a few more hours of normalcy. A life not yet shattered. 

“Just wanted to see you,” he said. “Make sure you’re doing okay. I remember what my first exams were like, and...”

Ben looked away. It was hard to lie to Rey, although he’d been doing it for the last year, pretending not to care every time she tried out her amateur flirting on him. 

Rey grinned, wide and bright, the kind of smile that lit up her whole face. “You’re amazing,” she said. Then softer, “Take me out to dinner tonight? I’ve barely eaten for the last three days and I’m starving.”

“Sure,” Ben said. He tried to smile, but it felt weak, like the rest of him. “I’ll give you some space so you can finish studying. Meet me back here after your exam is over?”

Rey nodded, then asked, “Is everything all right? You seem, I dunno, off.” 

Ben chucked her under her chin, then caught it between his fingers. All of Rey was delicate and strong at once, so terribly grabbable. And she was more grown up every time he saw her.

“Everything’s fine,” he said. “Just fine.” 

.

.

Rey found Ben in the chair she’d vacated, a book he wasn’t reading held loosely in his hands. He looked up as soon as she entered the big reading room, almost as if he’d sensed her, then stood, flinging the book back onto the cushion of the chair.

“How was it?” he asked when she got up close.

Something was off about his eyes. Swollen, maybe, or more red. Like he was sick.

“Awful,” she said with a dramatic rolling of her eyes. “I’d rather die than ever do that again. But at least it’s done.”

He didn’t grin at her sarcastic tone, and Rey knew something was wrong.

“Come on,” he said, curling his arm around her shoulders. He held her close, kissed her hairline, and every touch made her feel more uneasy. “Lemme get some food in you. You know you’re supposed to gain weight in college, right, Rey?”

She didn’t respond, only let him lead her out of the library to his car parked across campus. He opened her door for her and she sank heavily into the low, leather seat. When he got in, he didn’t start the car immediately.

“What is it, Ben? Why are you here?” she asked, ideas she didn’t like already forming in her mind.

He pressed the remote start button on the dash, and the Audi hummed to life, warm air gusting over her, though not driving off the chill of her body.

“Luke and Mama were in an accident,” he said, his voice sounding far away. “Early this morning--black ice.”

Rey stared at the large digital display in the center of his dash, focusing on the words there. 

_Love Her Madly / The Doors_

_(1971)_

“They died, Rey. They died right away--instantly.”

What album was this from? _L.A. Woman_ or _Other Voices_? Both were ‘71, weren’t they?

“Sweetheart?” Ben asked, and Rey tore her gaze away from the muted radio. He’d been crying, she realized, not sick. His eyes looked like that because Ben had been crying.

“Benny--” she gasped, a juvenile nickname she’d abandoned the moment he’d laid his hand on her waist in that family picture. And those big, brown eyes were suddenly wet again. She'd hardly ever seen Ben cry.

Soon her vision blurred with her own tears, and he hauled her across the console to scrunch awkwardly into his lap. Ben held her close, and Rey clawed at his shirt.

“Daddy!” she sobbed, suddenly not at all ready to never see Luke again, trying in a panic to remember what she’d said to him last.

“It’s gonna be okay, Rey, baby,” Ben said, mouth hard against her scalp as he held her so tight her bones ground together. “I’ve got you, I’ve got you.”

.

.

His mother and his uncle would have graves right next to each other. They’d come into the world together, then left it the same way, and Ben couldn’t imagine arranging their final resting place any differently. 

He asked Rey if it was all right with her, of course, but she’d only said, “Whatever you think is best.” 

Since then, Ben had handled everything: the funeral home, every moment of the shared service, which pictures would go where, the tombstones and their engravings, the flowers, the food, the music. All of it, he planned all of it, and he was exhausted.

It was fine. At least he had the details to lose himself in, and Ben preferred that to dwelling on the truth. That his mother and uncle were dead, his father was barely present, and he had an eighteen-year-old cousin to take care of. 

He got Rey up at eight o’clock in the morning. He had to, much as he’d prefer to let her sleep, because the wake started in two hours. Ben only placed his hand on her shoulder as gently as he could, but Rey still jolted up. She started crying immediately, or maybe she’d already been crying in her dreams and it took opening her eyes for the tears to fall.

“Ben,” she said, and reached for him, tugging him into her bed.

He held her close, murmuring soothing nonsense, promises he couldn’t keep and endearments he shouldn’t use. _I’ll take care of everything, sweetheart,_ and _you’ll be just fine, baby, I’ll make sure of it._

Ben breathed her in, held her close. He needed Rey as much as she needed him, maybe more, and he didn’t want to let her go. Not now, not ever. 

“I miss him,” she said, her voice waterlogged and hoarse. “I miss both of them.” 

“I know. Me too.” He kissed her forehead, letting his lips linger until Rey gasped. It wasn’t right, but if it gave both of them comfort, Ben couldn’t find in himself to care. “But we have each other, Rey. We still have each other, and I’ll carry you through this if you’ll let me. Okay?”

She was quiet for a long while, too long, but eventually Rey nodded and nuzzled his throat. 

“I love you,” she whispered, her lips brushing his pulse point.

“Love you too, sweetheart.” 

He rolled onto his back, pulling Rey with him, so that she was sitting on top of him, legs straddling his hips. She tugged her long t-shirt down, trying to cover her panties, but he’d already seen them. Grey Calvin Klein, sporty and feminine at the same time. 

Rey wiped at her swollen eyes and running nose with the heel of her hand. “I don’t know what to do, Ben. I just--I don’t know what to do.” 

Neither did he, but he couldn’t say that. He had to be strong for her. There wasn’t any other choice.

“It’s almost over,” Ben said. “We just need to get through this for a little longer, and then we can start on moving past it.”

Rey nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, you’re right. Just a little longer.” 

Ben sat up, cradled her face between his hands, and touched his nose to hers. “You tell me what you need today. Doesn’t matter what it is, I’ll give it to you.” 

Rey grasped at his shirt, wrapped her long legs around his waist, and said, “Thank you.”

They had to disentangle themselves eventually, but Rey wilted as soon as Ben parted from her. She curled up in the bed and said, “I need a few more minutes.” 

He ran his fingers through her hair, bent down to kiss her temple, and said, “I’ll run you a bubble bath. That okay?”

Rey dashed away fresh tears, grunting out a frustrated noise. “Sure.” 

Ben went to his mother’s bathroom, sidestepping all the boxes on the first floor--his things and Rey’s, moved from his own apartment and Luke’s modest house. Mom had owned a dozen different bottles of bath products, things she’d never get the chance to use, and at the sight of them Ben had to take a moment. He sat on the marble floor, giving himself two minutes to cry. Then he stood straight, grabbed a bottle of orange blossom bubble bath, and returned upstairs to Rey’s new room. 

Rey resisted leaving the bed, so Ben scooped her up into his arms. He carried her to the bathroom like a bride and set her on her feet. Her hair was a mess, oily at the roots and tangled, so he brushed it out, employing only the most careful strokes. If he pulled her hair too hard Rey didn’t say anything about it.

“I’ll pick out something for you to wear,” Ben said. 

Rey nodded, turned away from him, and pulled her shirt over her head. For a moment he could only stare, too stunned by the narrow expanse of her bare back to do anything. So pale, so pretty, that he shook from the effort not to touch her.

Then Rey’s hands dropped to the waistband of her grey underwear, and she said, “Ben. Can you--can you leave?”

“Of course.” Ben scrubbed his hands over his face and hurried out of the bathroom, closing the door firmly behind him. 

.

.

Luke had money, same as Leia. He’d have lived in the ancestral home with her, if Leia had her way. But Luke always preferred smaller, modest. Something that would do well with a little fixing up.

Like Rey.

His house was bigger now, stripped of most furniture. It had been sold or put in storage for Rey when she got her own place, and rented funeral home furniture took its place now. Inoffensive chairs with canvas covers, more aesthetically pleasing than folding chairs. Long tables with food in chafing trays. Sterile settees that didn’t look fit to withstand a really good cry. 

Rey didn’t like it. It didn’t feel like her home at all.

But she didn’t have to think, and that helped. Ben did the thinking for her. Helped her withdraw from Cornell for the coming semester, had her Volkswagen delivered to Alderaan, made sure the catering included macaroni and cheese.

He’d even picked out her dress for the day--or bought it, since she didn’t remember owning a black velvet Givenchy. But it was pretty and comfortable and kept Rey’s insides from spilling out.

The funeral had been a well planned disaster. Perfect, except for a drunken Uncle Han getting a hold of the microphone. He hadn’t said anything terrible or embarrassing, because Ben hadn’t let him.

He punched his own father at his mother’s funeral, but Rey thought it had probably made him feel better, not worse.

They’d be putting Dad in the ground now. Rey thought they did that during the service. Every funeral she’d watched on TV shows or seen in movies had, but apparently, in real life, they waited till you left to lower them down.

“Drink this,” Ben said, close to her ear. 

He handed her a wine glass filled impolitely full. “What is it?” Rey asked, like that really mattered.

“A sweet white. I tried it before I poured it. You’ll like it, sweetheart, and it’ll make you feel better.”

Rey nodded and sipped. He was right; she did like it.


	3. You're Lost Little Girl

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title from The Doors song of the same name.

.

.

Between bereavement and vacation days, and the time the lawyers at his small firm took for Christmas and New Year’s, Ben had managed to get the rest of the month off work. He’d start at the upstate branch of Wallace and Wilhern on January 3rd, but until then he’d have space to grieve, get his new-old house in order, and take care of Rey.

Han called the morning after the funeral, voice gruff when he apologized, but Ben didn’t want to hear it.

“I’m not talking to you,” he said. “Don’t call again, and don’t you dare show up here for Christmas.”

He hung up, then threw his phone across the room. It smashed against the wall, and he could tell just from the sound that it was broken.

Ben stood, kicked over the chair he’d been sitting in, and shouted. “Fuck!”

“Ben?”

He turned around and saw Rey standing in the doorway to his mother’s office--his office now, he supposed, if he’d stop trashing it.

Ben looked up, like it might keep his tears from falling. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for you to see that.”

“It’s okay,” Rey said. “Was that your dad?”

He nodded. “Yeah, that was him. Hopefully for the last time.”

“Oh.” Rey played with the tail of her braid. Her hair was longer than he’d ever seen it, falling halfway down her back when it was loose.

“Do you want some breakfast?” Ben asked.

Rey stretched so fully that she stood up on her tiptoes and reached high above her head, yawning widely. When her body settled again, she said, “Nope. Not hungry.”

Ben strode across the room and poked her belly button. “You weren’t hungry last night either, and I know you didn’t eat a bite at the wake.”

“So?” Rey asked. She backed away from him, eyebrows furrowed and pretty lips curved down. “Didn’t see you eating either.”

“Then I’ll fix breakfast for both of us,” Ben said.

He’d rather swallow rocks than food right now, but he’d suffer through a meal if it got Rey eating again.

Ben fixed a plate of French toast (one of the few dishes he knew how to make), smothered it in maple syrup, and carried it into the living room with two sets of forks and knives.

“Here. We can share,” he said.

Rey’s frown hadn’t eased yet, but she sat next to him and picked at a piece of toast, swirling it in the syrup. She even ate a few bites and drank an entire glass of milk, so Ben counted that as a small victory.

He bought the new _Ghostbusters_ and tempted Rey into sitting next to him while they watched it. She giggled, the first he’d heard from her since he picked her up from Cornell, and Ben couldn’t stop staring. Rey laughed with her whole body, from her toothy grin and scrunched up eyes to her shaking feet. So beautiful, so vibrant, that Ben had to smile.

He couldn’t quite bear to watch her laughter fade, so when the credits rolled he tackled Rey to the bed and sought out her most ticklish spots, underarms and ribs, belly and thighs. Ben tickled her until she was sobbing and begging. “Stop stop stop! Please, Ben!”

He let go of Rey, laughing with her as much as at her. “You’re too easy,” he said. “Ticklish all over.”

She bit her lip, but it didn’t hold back her grin. “And you’re awful,” Rey said, but she was winding his t-shirt around her fist, riding it up his stomach.

“Rey…”

Ben didn’t know what he wanted to say, only that he had to say something, because Rey wasn’t smiling anymore. Now she was looking over at him, eyes heavy-lidded, lower lip trapped between her teeth. She moved closer, so close that Ben’s breath caught. He could feel her, smell her, and it was making him hard.

They pulled away from each other at the same time. Rey lay on her back, staring up at the ceiling, her voice very small when she asked, “Do you ever think about last Christmas?”

Ben sighed, closing his eyes. He could see her there, behind his eyelids, as she’d been that night. So pretty and innocent in her white dress, lips reddened from his kiss.

“Sometimes,” he said.

_All the time._

“It doesn’t matter, though. I was drunk, and--and you know we can’t, sweetheart.”

“Yeah,” she whispered. “I know.”

Ben reached for her hand and clasped it in his own so that Rey would understand that she wasn’t alone. Not in this, not in anything.

.

.

Rey didn’t get out of Ben’s bed. He put on an old movie, _Roxanne_ , and pointed out every time Steve Martin was referencing the original French play. It was funny in an off-center way, and more sensual than she thought he probably remembered. Near the end, Rey took off her leggings and snuggled in.

“You staying here?” Ben asked, not quite looking at her.

“That okay?” she asked.

He tugged the blankets up over her, tucking them around her sides. “Of course it is. You need anything? Glass of water? Cup of wine to help you sleep?”

“Yeah,” she said, not indicating which she meant. Ben brought back both, and a peanut butter and honey sandwich. She ate it in small bites, chewing thoughtfully and chasing the thick bites with sweet wine.

“Aunt Leia used to make me these,” she said as Ben got ready for bed. She watched him as he tugged off his sweater, then his pants, that broad, pale back to her. He had moles here too, black flecks of ink on white parchment. Her eyes drifted down to his boxer briefs, snug on a pleasantly muscled behind. Then he pulled on sweatpants and turned to face her.

Her eyes were settled on his chest, ivory expanses of skin over more muscle than she thought a junior lawyer had rights to. Pectorals the size of the plate in her lap and a flat, hard stomach. He’d been on the swim team in high school, she’d once heard, though he was out of high school once she came into the picture. She suspected he still swam, if he looked like this. Leia had one of those indoor lap pools with the jets along one side in the atrium downstairs, and he probably used it. Maybe he’d teach her how.

“Peanut butter and honey? Yeah, she made them for me, too. Had one every night before bed.”

Rey smiled shyly, taking another bite. She held the half sandwich out to him. “Want a bite?”

He walked to the bed and bent, planting his hands on the mattress and taking the bite from her hand. He kept doing things like that, little intimacies that startled and confused her. She pulled her hand back, watching him as her next bite overlapped his.

Ben’s eyes dropped to her mouth, then he turned away. “You like music when you sleep? I usually have to have something on.”

“Sure,” Rey said, finishing the sandwich in quick, choking bites. “Whatever you like is fine.”

He tapped on his phone, and a low Radiohead song filled the discreet speakers in his wall.

He glanced to her, and she nodded. “It’s good.”

He got into the bed next to her, still shirtless. He spent about ten seconds trying to get comfortable before sighing and pulling her into his body, curling his massive frame around her and breathing a hot exhale into her hair and down the back of her neck.

“I love you, Rey.”

Rey shifted, fitting in more closely, finding where she clicked perfectly into place--which she did. They fit together, slim to bulky and the exact same amount of warm.

“I love you, too, Ben,” she said, turning to kiss the bicep acting as her pillow, and slipping into a black, quiet sleep.

.

.

Ben woke to Rey shifting in his arms, saying his name in her sleep. He was hard already, thanks to a dream that still felt alive under his skin: Rey in her pretty Christmas dress, legs open to him, the taste of honey on her lips.

He tried to shake off the dream, but before he could pull away Rey was rubbing herself against him, round bottom to his groin. It was wonderful and terrible, guilt burning him all over as he gasped, “Rey, sweetheart, wake up.”

“I’m awake,” she said, rocking back again, clumsy but so goddamned eager that Ben grabbed her hip. To hold her still, to keep her under control.

“Stop it,” he snapped. “I told you--we can’t…”

Rey whined, a high, petulant sound that should have grounded him, but the desperation of it trumped any childishness.

“It hurts, Ben, it hurts and I just want to--” She clasped the hand on her hip and slid it around to her belly, then lower. “Please make me feel something good.”

Ben slipped his fingers below the waistband of her panties, groaning Rey’s name against her temple. When he touched her clit she made a low, animal noise and bucked against him. So willing, lost in pleasure even though he’d hardly begun.

“D’you think about me when you do this alone?” Ben asked.

“You know I do,” she said, that tinny quality coloring her voice again.

He nipped her ear, rubbing her off faster. “Since Christmas?”

“No.” Rey thrashed, whimpered, close already, her voice small when she said, “Since always.”

He faltered, his fingers falling still, the heat along his body burning more fiercely, all shame now. _Always_ \--since Rey was a girl-child with a crush--

Ben jerked away from her, choking on tears and the ache of lust unfulfilled. What was wrong with him? Rey was his to take care of, to protect, not to use like a thing for his pleasure, no matter how sweetly she asked to be fucked.

Rey turned over, chased after him as he settled on his side of the bed--no, the whole bed was his. Rey didn’t have a place in it.

“Ben, I’m sorry. Please don’t--I’m sorry.”

“It’s all right, Rey, but…” He had to say it. He had to. “You should go to your own room.”

She looked like he’d hit her, like he’d struck across her pretty, sleepy face. It was enough for him to want to take it back, and he opened his mouth to say so--but she was already climbing out of bed. T-shirt and panties and nothing else, all long legs and tangled hair as she crawled clumsily over him and ran from his room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! It would be awesome if you could take a moment to let us know what you thought. :)


	4. Love Her Madly

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter title taken from The Doors song of the same name.

.

.

Rey went back to her room, but she didn’t settle the ache between her legs. It felt dirty, now that Ben had sent her away. It had felt dirty before, of course, but for a flickering moment, it seemed Ben didn’t care.

It was a comfort to Rey, because she’d been wavering back and forth between not caring and caring for months. There were a million reasons why she shouldn't want Ben like she did, and she was content to follow them--so long as he did.

Rey groaned, pulling the blankets up over her head, wanting to shut out the entire world. A world where Daddy was dead and Aunt Leia, too. Where the one person she wanted more than anything else was the one person she wasn’t allowed to have. All of that could go to hell, and leave Rey here to sleep.

Ben woke her with a gentle shake on the shoulder.

“Get up, sweet--” He stopped, and Rey rolled over to face him. His hair was wet, and he smelled like chlorine, a summer thing despite the snow outside. “I bought gingerbread from the bakery and that fancy coffee you like from Mainland Brew.”

“The maple walnut?” she asked.

He nodded, not quite looking at her. So beautiful, biting at his full lower lip, radiating the same nervousness she felt.

Rey couldn’t stand it, couldn’t stand what this nagging itch was doing to them. So she sat up and kissed him sweetly on the cheek. “Thank you,” she said. “I think I’m finally hungry this morning.”

Ben stood when she did, his eyes still averted and his breaths shallow. She hated it.

“Let’s do something.” His eyes shot to hers then, just the barest flash of warning--or want. “Let’s--let’s go get a tree. I want to decorate for Christmas.”

Ben smiled, the sort of wide grin that woke the dimples in his cheeks and showed off his uneven teeth.

“All right. Let’s do it. We’ll buy new tinsel and lights--and dig out those ugly old wooden ornaments you like so much.”

“Hey! They’re cool. You just don’t have any appreciation for fine things,” Rey said, as loftily as she could.

Ben looked like he was trying very hard not to laugh. “Whatever you say, kid.”

It had been months since he’d called her that, not since he’d kissed her on the balcony. But it was good, she tried to tell herself. It was good that he was pulling back, that they were acting like cousins and not like characters from a V.C. Andrews novel.

“Go so I can change,” Rey said, a little harder than she meant to, but Ben took it in stride.

Breakfast was quick and Rey tried to keep her food-inspired moans to a minimum, though it was difficult with both gingerbread and her favorite coffee.

Ben protested, but Rey insisted on driving them into town. “You drive an Audi, for fuck’s sake. We’re not going to strap a tree on the top of a damn _Audi_.”

“Fine,” Ben said, but he buckled in with a great sigh, like sitting in the passenger seat was an affront to his dignity.

Rey rolled her eyes, then started up her truck. “I swear you act younger than me sometimes.”

Ben huffed, opened his mouth and quickly closed it, apparently thinking better of whatever he’d been about to say. He probably just didn’t want to prove her right.

Middle of the day on a Monday wasn’t the prime time for picking out trees, and Rey almost preferred that. There was one grouchy looking old man on the lot, ready to cut down and drag over whatever tree they pointed out, and he stayed near the heated shed with the cash register.

So Rey took a risk, and took Ben’s gloved hand in her own as she tugged him down the hill to get lost in the line of trees.

He was looking all around, no doubt keeping an eye out for other people, even though the chances of running into anybody they knew were slim to none.

“Holding hands isn’t a crime,” she said.

Ben stopped, stranding them both in the middle of this fir tree farm. Rey breathed in the crisp scents of evergreen and grey wind, the cold taking her back to the balcony and her first kiss.

She’d worn honey lip balm today. Just in case.

Ben’s ragged breaths clouded the air before him, soft mist that dissipated as soon as it appeared. He squeezed her hand tighter, too tightly, enough that it sent a shock of heat straight to her belly, between her legs, down her thighs.

She stepped closer, tilting her face up as she did. They could have been the only people in the whole world, for how quiet it was around them. The special kind of quiet that heralded--

She felt the ice-kiss of a snowflake as it landed high on her cheek. Another, catching in her lashes, then the snow began to fall in earnest. Big, fluffy flakes that seemed to float in the air longer than what was allowed by gravity. A flake landed on her lips, and she licked it away without thinking.

When Ben broke, it was the most perfect thing Rey had ever seen. His mouth trembled, jaw working, dark eyes over-wet, and then--

He yanked her to him and pulled her up his body, stretching her onto her toes so that he could kiss her. There was nothing patient or gentle about it this time, only Ben’s hungry mouth taking hers, tongue and teeth, exploring her, biting at her lips, like he wanted to take her apart and then swallow her whole.

Rey threw her arms around his neck, kissing back with all she had. She knew she was clumsy, not quite keeping up with him, but maybe he’d like that. Teaching her, being her only.

“God, you’re so sweet,” he groaned, his words filling her open mouth.

Rey didn’t know what to say back, so she just made a sound of utter pleasure in response. He seemed to like it, his massive hand coming to cup the back of her skull, keeping her in place as he brought his other hand to her jaw. He tugged at her chin, drawing her mouth more open against him, then delved his tongue into her, deep and hot. Rey trembled, from cold and from want, but she followed the instructions his body gave her-- _open wide for me, take it, yes, just like that_.

Then Ben pulled away, panting, and wiped at his wet mouth with leather-clad fingers. He was a mess: soft hair rumpled and flecked with snow, shivering even harder than she was, staring at her lips like he’d enjoy nothing more than to kiss her again.

She’d wrecked him, and it felt good. Powerful and weak at once, a gift only Ben could give her.

“No,” Rey said, more a whine than a word, and she wasn’t even embarrassed about it. She couldn’t let this happen, wouldn’t let Ben leave her again.

Rey beat at his chest and hissed, “Don’t be a coward.”

Ben caught her wrists, gripping them so hard that she cried out. It hurt, he was hurting her, and God, she liked it.

“I can’t make love to you on the ground in six inches of snow,” he whispered. “Let’s get a tree and get out of here.”

The grumpy man at the shed must have seen it written all over their faces when they came back and picked out one of the trees laying already cut along the fence. He didn’t try to upsell them on a stand, didn’t offer them complimentary hot chocolate. Only got the tree in the plastic mesh and into the bed of Rey’s truck.

Ben took the keys from her hand and yanked open the driver’s side door.

“You drive too slow,” was all he said.

.

.

They left a trail of clothes from the front door to Ben’s room, and by the time they reached the bed he and Rey were down to their underwear. Delicate lace panties covered her sex, cheerful Christmas red, nothing like the plain cotton he’d slipped his fingers under last night.

“Did you wear these for me?” he asked.

Rey lay back, arms crossed over her chest, all fair freckled skin and subtle curves. “Of course,” she said. “I didn’t think you’d see them, but… I wanted you to.”

Ben kissed her again--they’d been kissing every chance they got since they walked through the door--and unlocked her arms from across her pretty little breasts. He bit and sucked his way from Rey’s mouth to her chest, pausing only to press his ear to her heartbeat and listen to its thundering. She was silk soft under his tongue as he licked at her left nipple, her fingers threading through his hair, his name strangling its way out of her.

“Ben, oh God!” she gasped beneath him, and he pulled away only to press the flat of his tongue against her, licking a hard stripe over her breast, massaging both her nipple and the yielding flesh beneath it. Rey arched, and he did it again, large, consuming passes of his tongue over the places where she was so small.

Ben took as much of her into his mouth as he could while he tugged down her panties. He reached between her legs and found her so wet that he couldn’t help pressing a finger against her sex, teasing until Rey begged him to touch her.

He stopped sucking on her breast, letting her flesh leave his mouth with a gentle _pop._ “Touch you how, sweetheart?”

Rey groaned, more frustration than pleasure, and smacked him on the shoulder. “You know how. Don’t make me say it.”

Ben had to grin. There she was, his stubborn girl.

He shouldn’t reward bad behavior, but Ben breached her with one finger anyway. When he went in with such ease, he pulled out and pressed a second into her. That was a better fit, and she was so soft, hot, tight, _his_ \--

The noise that left her was more squeal than anything, a high, girlish sound that Ben knew he shouldn’t like so much.

“All right, sweetheart? Am I hurting you?”

She paused, then said, “Y-yes--but don’t stop!” He moved his fingers fractionally in her, and she nodded. “Yes, fuck, that feels good.”

Ben took her slowly but deeply, giving her as much as she asked for, then a little more. Rey shouted when he curled his fingers, hitting that sweet spot that invariably unraveled women. Then she was pushing against him, bucking into his touch.

“More?” she asked, head thrown back as she clawed at the duvet. “Please?”

Ben bent down to mouth at her belly and nudge his nose into the brown curls on her mound. She smelled like winter and girl, tasted of salt and bitter wet when he licked from the pink around his fingers to her clit.

Rey shrieked, sounding almost hurt by the contact, then sobbing, “Yes! Please, please don’t stop!”

He couldn’t help but frown softly before he leaned all the way in and worked that straining bud with focused attention. The world could crumble down around him, and he wouldn’t be able to stop.

Ben dreamed what making Rey come would be like, how pretty and sweet and perfect. The dreams never included the ache he felt as her slender body clamped down on his fingers, the way her flesh shuddered into further wetness, how her back arched and her legs stiffened. His imaginings hadn’t gotten her sounds right either, sobbing and laughing at the same time, relief and ripe want in equal measure.

Rey scrambled to pull him on top of her before she’d even stopped shaking, kissing him off-center while she yanked down his boxer briefs.

“In me,” she said against his mouth. “Want you in me.”

They needed to slow down--he had to stop and think, but he couldn’t think, couldn’t care about anything except giving Rey what they both wanted. Ben brought his cock to her, moaning at the wet and tight warmth that welcomed him. He eased his way inside her, inch by inch, watching Rey all the while, her beautiful face twisting from need to pain.

An inch more, and Rey gasped, winced. Squeezing her eyes shut and breaking that line connecting them. “Stop, please. It’s too much.”

Ben held himself still above her, careful not to hurt her any further. He wanted this to be good for Rey, to make a memory that would keep her warm at night for years to come--when she was alone in her own bed or sharing someone else’s.

He’d long since licked the honey balm from her lips, but Ben couldn’t get enough of kissing her, so he took her mouth again. Slow, fragile kisses that could break if he hurried them, only growing softer until their lips gentled apart.

“There wasn’t any mistletoe,” Ben said, gasping on the truth. “I made it up, pretended to see it so I could kiss you.”

Rey opened her eyes. She was beautiful when she smiled, gorgeous when she frowned, and utterly breathtaking when she cried. Especially now, when the tears wavering in her eyes were made from the pain his body inside hers caused, and from joy, something he caused, too.

“I--” she started, but she hiccuped a breath, choking on whatever she was trying to say. Rey blinked, and more pretty tears fell, wetting the hair at her temples. The wonder, the adoration in her gaze was almost too much to take, and he was tempted to kiss over whatever she meant to tell him.

But his Rey surprised him all over again, and only said, “I think I’m ready now.”

Ben thrust into her as tenderly as he could, movements shallow and languorous. Rey clung to him, her fingernails digging into the muscles of his shoulders, still looking up at him with something close to worship. An awe that only grew as he took her a little faster, harder, making her unused body accommodate him.

“You feel so good,” he hissed, then gritted his teeth to keep from saying more. How wet she was, how perfectly she fit around him. Like he’d been meant to take this from her, give this to her.

“Ben,” she whined, her little grunts of discomfort melting into the rounder sounds of moans, sighs. “God, Ben, this is--” She shuddered, her hips canting to take more, to try to match his movements.

He had her rough and quick, drawing out loud, staggered cries that fueled his need, his pride. Ben rocked into her harder, then shifted to support himself on one arm, reaching to bring her off with his free hand.

“Come on,” he said. “Just a little more, sweetheart.”

His encouragement must have been all Rey needed, because a moment later he felt her sex fluttering around him, then clenching, her cries climbing higher.

“Ben, I…”

Rey bit her lip, and he knew what she wanted to say, what she’d almost let slip earlier.

“Me too,” he said. “So much.”

Before she could answer, Ben closed his eyes and let go. Losing himself in Rey’s body, giving in to the pleasure of loving her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks so much to everyone who's reading! We'd love it if you could take a moment to share your thoughts. <3


	5. You Make Me Real

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well this is the final chapter! Thanks for going on this trip with us, and please let us know what you think. :)
> 
> Chapter title taken from The Doors song of the same name.

.

.

Ben was heavy on her, his broad body spreading her thighs wide. She could barely breathe under the shuddering bulk of him, and she thought that maybe she didn’t mind that at all. She tickled fingers up his back, tempted to suck the tips into her mouth to taste the sweat that collected in the hollow of his spine.

Ben was inside her, softening, but still a stretching, bruising presence. Ben had fucked her, made love to her, took what he’d wanted and given her what she’d needed. Ben, the man she’d loved for years, and the man she was only allowed to have because her father and his mother were dead.

Rey shivered beneath him and Ben shifted. “Sorry, sweetheart. I must be crushing you.”

“‘S okay,” she muttered, but he got off of her anyway. She hissed when their bodies disengaged, looking down with a whimper.

There was blood. Not much, but some, smeared at the base of his cock and marking her inner thigh where he’d brushed her skin. God. Blood. She’d lost her virginity, just now. To Ben Solo. Aunt Leia’s son. Her cousin. Then she felt the tickle of his come spilling from her and dripping to the sheets.

Rey thought she might be sick.

Ben moved quickly, wrapping her in the sheet and holding her tight to him.

“I love you,” he said. “I love you Rey, and this was too perfect to not be right. Okay baby? I’ll keep you safe.”

Rey knotted her fingers in his thick hair and held on tight, close.

“I love you too, Benny,” she whispered, kissing his clavicle. Brushing her tongue along it to finally taste him.

Salt. Just salt.

Ben carried her to the bathroom, carefully unwinding her body from the sheets and laying her in the deep bathtub. He ran the water pleasantly hot, then lathered a washcloth with sweet mint soap. Ben wiped the blood from her thigh first, then cleaned her gently between her legs. A sigh hitched in her throat, and he paused.

“It’s okay,” she whispered. “Just… tender.”

Ben smiled, a slow, gentle spreading of that kiss-swollen mouth. “You were so good, Rey, you know? So good for me. Perfect. The best I’ve ever had, the best I could imagine.”

Rey smiled shyly, flicking water at him. “Liar.”

He face grew more solemn, and he surged forward, dropping the washcloth into the rising water. Ben gripped her hair, hard enough to get her attention, but not so much that he hurt her.

“I won’t lie to you. You are everything left to me in the world and I--I’m going to treasure you till the day I die.”

It was like she was caught under the weight of his body again, for how feeble her breaths had become. He used his hold on her hair to turn her face up to his. His kiss was sweet, careful, and Rey could do nothing but open to him.

It was a long moment before he pulled away, turning off the taps.

“I should have put in some bubble bath for you,” he said, his face drawn as if this were a serious issue.

“It’s okay, Ben,” she said, tugging him back. “The bath is fine like it is.”

His face didn’t relax as he reached for the glass bottle of expensive shampoo. Rey extended her hand for it, but he drew it out of her reach.

“Let me.”

Ben’s blunt fingers were insistent and soothing on her scalp as he wet and washed her hair. He combed conditioner through the ends, humming, then softly singing the song that had been on in his car the day Daddy died.

_Don't ya love her madly_

_Wanna be her daddy_

_Don't ya love her ways_

_Tell me what you say_

_Don't ya love her as she's walkin' out the door_

.

.

Ben did his best to pamper Rey. He’d sworn to treasure her, love her, and he’d never made a promise that was easier to keep.

The morning after they made love, Ben took Rey to her favorite café and ordered her a breakfast fit for a queen. After that he took her shopping and bought her everything her eyes lingered over, including a dark red dress, something pretty for her to wear on Christmas day. There was something familiar about it, but Ben couldn’t place what it reminded him of.

They picked out new decorations for their tree together; it went without saying that Mama’s classic white lights and silver ornaments would stay boxed up in the attic. Christmas brought enough memories that they didn’t need without digging up more. So they strung rainbow lights around the tree and wrapped it in crimson ribbons, dressing it up in fresh colors.

On Christmas Eve they made sugar cookies from scratch, then ate them in front of the fireplace. Rey had built a nest for them out of fluffy blankets and down pillows, and it was so comfortable that Ben almost fell asleep.

Rey trailed her fingers along his bare stomach, an idle, directionless touch that roused him instantly.

“You’ve been working so hard to take care of me,” she said, “and I just--I want you to know I won’t forget it.”

Ben reached up to play with her hair. It was getting so long, and every time he saw it down he could only think about wrapping it around his hand.

“It helps me too,” he said. “Being with you… loving you. Nothing else could have gotten me through this.”

Rey looked down, something like guilt drawing her lips into that beautiful frown. “I miss them,” she whispered. “I want them back every day--but I feel like… like I’ve lost my right to that.”

Ben sat up and pulled Rey onto his lap so that he could cup her precious face between his hands and make her look at him.

“No, sweetheart. No. You have the right to grieve, for however long and in whatever way you need to.”

“But--” Rey bit her trembling lip, hazel eyes overwet. “They’d hate this, Ben. Us, together? Daddy would be disgusted. And Aunt Leia--”

“I know,” Ben whispered. “I do, but they’re not--they’re not here to worry about us. And I think if they were, they’d rather we were safe and happy than… miserable. Even if it took them a long time to accept it.”

Rey slapped away the tears spilling down her cheeks, like she was afraid to show him her pain. He couldn't stand it. Ben pressed his lips to the tear tracks streaking her skin, wetting them further with his kiss.

When he leaned back, Rey said, “They wouldn’t have had to accept us. This never would have happened if they were alive, but I’m _thankful_ , and I want to be happy about us even though it came at that price, and what kind of daughter does that make me? Daddy’s dead, and I want you, and I want him back, but I could never have both--”

Rey’s voice was growing high, her words frantic, and she was trembling all over, crying so hard that her tears were stealing her breath.

Ben pulled her close and wrapped his arms around her. If he could keep her here forever, protected and all his, every inch of her touching him, he would.

“Shh. It’s okay, Rey. You’re okay.”

She shook her head, scoring his chest with her nails, a sharp sting that made him gasp. Less in pain than need, but Ben bit it back.

“Listen to me,” he said. “I’ve wanted you since we kissed last Christmas, so badly that I didn’t know how I could keep away from you much longer. We would have ended up just like this, Rey. Maybe not so soon, but it would have happened. You didn’t trade our family for my love. You couldn’t, because you already had it.”

Rey shook her head again, her pretty face so twisted in agony that it ached in his chest. “I don’t believe you,” she whispered. “You did everything you could to avoid me for months. You wouldn’t even look at me!”

“And it was breaking me,” Ben snapped. “Of course I didn’t look! Every time I laid eyes on you, all I could think about was kissing you, holding you, putting you on your back and--”

Rey climbed off of him and settled on her back before him, just like he said he’d wanted. Legs parted a little, giving him a glimpse of the green lace panties beneath her long t-shirt--his t-shirt.

“But you didn’t,” she said, tender, almost injured. “And you wouldn’t have.”

Ben grabbed her ankle and yanked her closer. “You’re wrong. I was trying so hard not to have you, but it was just a matter of time. I wouldn’t have lived my life without you. Do you understand?”

“Ben--”

“Answer me!” He knelt over her, cupped her head off the floor in both hands.

“I understand,” she breathed. “I--”

But he kissed away whatever she might have said, a hard press of lips and teeth, making sure she wouldn’t forget.

.

.

They’d kissed since he’d had her in his bed. Touched and loved, but not _made_ love. Not found release at the hands of the other. Maybe they were frightened, or maybe they wanted that perfect, snow covered day to stand pristine for a while longer.

That fear or reverence was gone now as Ben yanked at the fragile collar of his ancient Cornell shirt she wore. It rent, burning her skin, and Ben bit at the gasp that escaped her. He tugged again, ripping it further, but not far enough. He snarled something foul against her lips as he pulled the shirt up over her head.

She was hot in a moment, and wet the moment after. He pressed two fingers into her mouth and she sucked, her breath hissed from between her bared teeth. Then Ben snaked his hand under her panties, pressed into her, curled up.

Rey was wet enough that she could hear him entering her.

“Mine,” he grunted. “My sweet girl.”

Ben got her there in seconds, opening her, then exploiting her. He didn’t give her a moment to think, to breathe, just picked her up then dropped her at the feet of a climax so startling, she cried out in pleasure pain.

He flipped her roughly to her stomach, swatting her thighs apart. She spread wide for him, whining as he yanked her panties to the side and pressed into her.

“F-fuck!” she muttered, this time so different than the last. No pain, just a deep, satisfying stretch that chased bliss down her limbs.

Ben twisted his hand in her hair, wrapping its length around his fist, then using this cruel drip to tug her back to meet his forward thrust.

“Tell me you could have lived without this, baby.”

The noise she made wasn’t an intelligible answer, and he popped her on her bottom.

“Tell me this isn’t everything you need.”

Rey kicked her feet into the ground, squirmed as she gripped the blankets, the pillows, the short pile of the carpet trying to find a handhold in this onslaught. Good, so good she couldn’t even think.

“Fucking say it!”

“I couldn’t!” she gasped. “It is! You are--everything, Ben. My--my everything.”

He laid down on her then, rocking in so deep that Rey didn’t know how her body could accommodate him without breaking.

His voice was ragged and wet against her ear, that anger and control shattered in an instant.

“I love you, sweetheart.” He let go of her hair, stroking fingers over her sore scalp as he took her higher. “I love you with every breath, every drop of blood in me. I always have, and I’ll never, ever stop.”

Rey nodded, her cheek scratching against the Persian carpet her flailing had exposed.

“Love you--too. Love you--”

Rey stiffened, screamed, her release surging through her belly. Ben followed her down, staccato grunts and sobs percussive alongside her wail. He was kissing and biting her cheek by turns, whimpering a wet sound into her hair. Crying almost as hard as she had. Babbling nonsense and gripping her body tight enough to plant desperate bruises beneath her skin.

The world was still soft and unsteady as Ben pulled away, breaking the points where they touched. When Rey rolled over she saw him sitting up, arms wrapped around his knees.

“I’m sorry,” he said. “I shouldn’t have...”

Maybe he was trying to apologize for being so rough with her, but Rey didn’t want that.

She sat behind him, legs bracketed around his strong body, and rested her cheek against his shoulder. “Don’t, please. Don’t ruin it.”

Rey hugged him, giving back some of the comfort he’d been giving her.

“This is a good thing,” he said. “Something that feels like this can’t be wrong.”

Ben didn’t ask it like a question, but Rey could see it for what it was.

“It’s a good thing,” she murmured. “So good, Ben.”

Rey could feel him calming, all the tension leached from his body with every kiss she pressed to his shoulder.

Ben sighed, a heavy sound, ripe with relief. “I meant everything I said. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. Not ever.”

“I know,” Rey said.

She could feel the truth in his words now, as real and tangible as the marks he’d left on her body.

.

.

The ring was simple, an emerald cut green amethyst set in sterling silver. Nothing ostentatious--or suspiciously similar to an engagement ring. The kind of thing Rey could wear when she went back to Cornell without attracting intrusive questions. Still, it might be too much. Ben was tempted to steal the jewelry box out from under the Christmas tree and throw it away, festive wrapping paper and all, but he didn’t.

That night, Ben fixed a tumbler of whiskey for himself and a glass of eggnog cut with SoCo for Rey.

“Want to go out on the veranda and kiss under some imaginary mistletoe?” she asked, smiling.

Rey looked so beautiful tonight, dressed in red velvet with her hair down and her feet bare, half elegant and half wild.

“No.” Ben took her hand and threaded their fingers together. “I don’t need an excuse to kiss you anymore.”

There was no one here to enforce family traditions, so they ordered Chinese food and watched _The Two Towers_ instead of _It’s a Wonderful Life_. Rey cuddled with him until the credits rolled, and then she dove straight for the tree, dug through the larger presents, and pulled the smallest box from the very back.

“Had your eye on that one?” Ben asked. He tried to laugh, but it came out weak, wavering.

Rey was too busy tearing off the golden wrapping paper to answer. When she opened the box, she squealed, rescued the ring from its velvet cushion, and put it straight on the her left hand, right where a wedding band would belong. There were things Ben had planned to say, declarations of love, words like _forever_ and _always_ , but Rey didn’t give him time to make the promises that were supposed to go with her ring. She ran back to the couch, scrambled onto his lap, and kissed him. Tender and deep, loving but far from innocent.

On a broken breath, caught between kisses, Rey said, “Yes. I’ll wait however long I have to, but I’m yours and you’re mine, and--yes! Just yes.”

Ben smiled, his heart so full it ached. “When it’s time, I’ll get you an engagement ring. Something beautiful, worthy of you, with the kind of diamond that’ll make people wonder whose wife you are.”

Rey threw her arms around his neck and asked, “Can we do that someday? Have a real wedding, and--and all of it?”

“Yes.” Ben kissed her forehead, the tip of her nose, her lips. “We’ll have whatever you want, sweetheart.”

A wedding would be a long while off, a dream that would have to wait until Rey finished college at the very least. But it was a dream they both wanted, and that was enough for Ben.

He carried Rey to bed, in too much of a hurry to strip out of their clothes. He had her with his pants around his knees, her dress rucked up around her waist, a vision in red as they made love. That took the edge off enough for them to undress and go slower the second time.

Rey fell asleep naked and love-bitten, cradling her left hand to her chest, but Ben was wide awake. Something felt off, an itch out of reach, nudging at the back of his mind. He’d forgotten something, and he wouldn’t sleep until he remembered what it was.

He climbed out of bed, pulled on a pair of pajama pants, and crept out of the bedroom as quietly as he could. The house was dark this deep in the night, silent except for the whisper of his footsteps, echoing back at him from the high ceilings and marble floors. Ben felt like an intruder in his own home, like he’d given up any right to his mother’s property after staking his claim on Rey.

Ben poured himself a glass of whiskey, not bothering with ice. It burned, hot as shame as he swallowed. The tumbler was empty in his hand when the memory clicked into place, like an old key finding its fit in a forgotten lock. He set the glass on the kitchen counter and hurried to the living room.

There it was, standing proud on the mantle, one of the earliest Christmas photos with Rey included in their little family. She was standing next to him, tall for her age and skinny, in a dress that was pretty but too old for a twelve-year-old. Dark red velvet.

Ben dug a rarely used suitcase out of a closet. Tears trickled down his cheeks as he removed the photos from the mantle and side tables. One by one, year after year, until he had twenty-eight frames holding memories without number. He placed them inside the suitcase, where they would be safe, and closed it. The zipping noise was loud in this crypt of a house, sharp and final.

He took the suitcase to the attic and found a dusty corner, a lonely place where the pictures could rest without being disturbed. This was where Ben left the remnants of their old family, and he locked the door behind him.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! We would love it if you’d take a moment to let us know your thoughts. :)


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